


Bring Your Own Lighting

by Isagel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Dirty Talk, Elevator Sex, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Extremis Pepper Potts, F/F, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, MCU Kissing Fest, POV Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts has powers, Playful Sex, Rough Sex, Suit Porn, Superpower Sex, hot ladies being hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagel/pseuds/Isagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The elevator stops, suspended in the half-space between floors. It’s a liminal place, a stopped elevator, neither there nor here –  a room ripe for assassinations or seductions. It makes some people nervous. Natasha has never been one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Your Own Lighting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [longwhitecoats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/longwhitecoats/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "Natasha/Pepper, suits" in the MCU Kissing Fest run by such_heights, this took a sharp turn into filthy porn. Not that I mind.

When the elevator hits her floor with a _ping_ Natasha looks up from adjusting her thigh holster to see Pepper standing there behind the opening doors. She’s headed for the lobby, by the looks of it, dressed for the chill of a New York fall in a grey cashmere coat left open over a lighter grey business suit, the elegant armor of the CEO. She glances up from the tablet she’s typing on when Natasha steps inside and selects her destination on the elevator’s touchscreen. It’s a distracted look, preoccupied. And then it isn't.

Pepper’s eyes sweep her body – down, then up – and she smiles, the tablet flipped closed and slipped into the handbag dangling from the crook of her arm.

“I see they finished your new suit,” she says. The handbag goes on the floor.

“It’s a prototype,” Natasha says. “I have a date with Steve on the training floor to see how it holds up in hand to hand.”

Pepper takes a step closer. Another. In the closed space, that brings her all the way in.

“Well, I can’t speak to functionality,” she says, and reaches out, “but I do like the form.” Her hand settles at Natasha’s waist, cupping the outward curve of her hip, just above the utility belt. “JARVIS,” she adds, not looking away from Natasha’s eyes, “pause the elevator, please.”

The elevator stops, suspended in the half-space between floors. It’s a liminal place, a stopped elevator, neither there nor here – a room ripe for assassinations or seductions. It makes some people nervous. Natasha has never been one of them.

She smiles and wraps her arms around Pepper’s neck, lets her hand slip beneath the fine wool of the coat to find the finer skin of her throat. Gloved palm against her nape, bare thumb stroking the vulnerable spot below her earlobe. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “I think they were aiming for a fashionable blend of form and function.”

Behind Pepper’s back, she touches the fingers of her left hand to the controls on her right wristband. The bands of blue lighting along the sides of her uniform switch on.

Pepper startles, laughs.

She’s beautiful when she laughs, the crisp angles of her face bursting into dimples and apple cheeks. It makes her look free.

She runs her hands up Natasha’s sides, tracing the lights, the silhouette of Natasha’s body, with her fingertips. Through the Kevlar, the touch shouldn't even register, it’s so light, but the awareness of it travels over Natasha’s skin, spreading like goosebumps beneath the armor. 

"It’s only a question of time before everyone I sleep with comes with a glow-in-the-dark option, isn't it?” Pepper says. Her hands sweep the outsides of Natasha’s breasts, a firmer touch. “But I suppose that can be useful when the lights are out.”

“If you want to play hide and seek,” Natasha says, leaning closer, letting her lips brush Pepper’s temple, the breath of her words blowing a strand of ginger hair back from the shell of her ear, “you really need to start with losing the Louboutins. I love having those heels digging into my ass when you’ve got your legs wrapped around me so tight I can feel your muscles trembling when you scream my name, but you’re never going to catch me in the dark as long as I can hear you coming.”

Pepper draws a breath in, the sound loud and filthy in Natasha’s ear, but when she speaks her voice is cool, steady.

“It’s a good thing, then,” she says, “that it was never going to stay dark.”

Her hand has strayed to Natasha’s chest, the pads of her fingers resting on bare skin, her thumb toying with the zipper of Natasha’s suit. 

The glow starts at her knuckles, from within, as if her joints and bones are embers, just waiting to be stoked. Soon her skin is burning, firelight rising bright around her hand, illuminating her face. There is no heat, nothing that hurts, just a warmth that sinks through Natasha’s body like a weight, deeper to the center, making her clit swell, making her nipples harden against the stiff insides of her armored suit. 

Natasha lets her hand close on Pepper’s neck, a grip with her thumb at the hollow of her throat, and pushes her back. Presses her up against the wall of the elevator, locks her there with her body close against hers, and Pepper goes so easily, arcing up into every point of pressure, wrapping her long limbs around Natasha, designer wool and burning skin all around. Her lips taste like torchlight, hearth light, the flame you follow, the flame you return to, again and again. She’s so tall in her fucking perfect heels, Natasha’s head bent back to have her mouth, eyes closed against the glow of her, sunlight red on the inside of her eyelids, licking at her tongue like she wants to lick into her pussy.

Pepper has got her zipper pulled down, her hand beneath the Kevlar, and it’s so good, warm fingers squeezing her breast, nails at the edges of her bra. Then Pepper breaks the kiss, pulls back just far enough to speak.

“Take your belt off,” she says. “Take _both_ your belts off, I need this zipper all the way down. I need to be _inside_ , come on.”

But Natasha is already moving, letting her utility belt drop, a clatter of weapons on the elevator floor, unbuckling the useless decorative belt at her waist, and then Pepper has her, unzipped as far as the suit will go in one quick move, long fingers dipping into the open v at the front. Pepper is smiling against her mouth, curved lips against her lips, and then her smile grows wider as she finds what she’s looking for, her fingers spreading Natasha’s folds, sliding through the slick wetness to rub at her clit.

Natasha has to kiss her again, then, hold her face between her palms and press into her mouth, breathing her moans around Pepper’s tongue as Pepper works tight, greedy circles between her thighs, licks her open with fire. Her clit feels heavy, engorged, as if she could push Pepper down and fuck her through the floor with it, no need for a strap-on to slam all the way home. She’s aware of her own pulse beat, throbbing against Pepper’s fingers, faster and faster, painfully, blissfully hard. Her balance is always perfect, but she still has to put her hand out, rest her weight against the wall behind Pepper as her body starts shaking, spasming, trembling as she comes. Pepper keeps stroking her through it, through every wave of her orgasm until she shudders into stillness, her cheek against Pepper’s cheek, her fingers around the lapel of her coat.

They stand like that, quietly, until Natasha says:

“So I should put you down as in favor of the new suit, then, or did I get that wrong? There was a lot of room for interpretation.”

Pepper laughs again, a shakier laugh than before. The kind of laugh that reminds Natasha they’re not done yet, not nearly.

“I’d say I’m quite firmly in the favorables column, yes.”

“Mm,” Natasha agrees. She unfurls her fingers from the wool of Pepper’s coat and slips her hand underneath, smoothes her palm over the fine fabric of her tailored jacket. “Do you know what I like about _your_ suit? It’s so impeccable, so ridiculously expensive, that when you get to whatever meeting you’re going to, no one will suspect for a second that you have your little silk panties in your handbag because they’re too wet for you to wear after what I’ve done to you.”

“Jesus,” Pepper says. “Please.”

Natasha knows that JARVIS is a computer and that computers don’t clear their throats, but that doesn't change the impression she gets.

“Excuse me, Miss Potts,” he says. “But am I correct in assuming I should inform the other occupants of this building that this lift is currently out of order and will take some further time to repair?”

Pepper looks at Natasha. Natasha looks at Pepper. Natasha wets her lips and smiles.

“That does sound like a correct assumption for someone to make, JARVIS,” Pepper says.

There is fire in every bone of her body when Natasha sinks to her knees, a glow beneath her skin, beneath her clothes. Natasha means to put her lips to every flame.


End file.
